


His Pathologist

by Tboy1971



Series: Words unsaid -Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2018 [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2018, Sherlollyweek2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tboy1971/pseuds/Tboy1971
Summary: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2018Day 2 The Reichenbach FallMolly learns she counts and Sherlock needs help, what happens after the fall? What more does Molly do to help? In keeping with canon, but again gone for off screen possibilities. It’s another Sherlolly slow burn. Mainly in Molly’s POV.As always the characters are not mine but ACD and Mofftiss, the geniuses who allow us to create further from their works.





	His Pathologist

She couldn’t believe it had all panned out perfectly. 

Sherlock was lying on a table in the morgue. Dead. Dead to John, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson. Dead to London and everyone else.

Not to Mycroft or Molly. 

He was alive to them.

Looking at his still body, Molly felt like her heart was capsizing, crushing beneath the depths of the ocean, sunk much too low in the deep waters. So that it was collapsing in on itself. It felt so real.

But, he was alive.

Sherlock Holmes was alive, living, breathing and he was a reality.

He had told her she counted and even though he asked if she would still help him. Worried over her belief in him, as so many others had believed the lies. She was unequivocal in her offer.

“What do you need” she had asked, twice. 

Her open stance and arms out, like a lamb offering as a sacrifice. Willing to give all she had for him. Her wide dark eyes moist with fear and worry as the words he spoke poured out of him. 

“You” that’s all he said and all he needed to say. “You”.

————

Now here they were, in the morgue at St Bart’s, waiting for Mycroft’s people to fetch them and take them to a safe house.

Sherlock started to awaken from the sedative, which had made his body limp. In case John or someone else had got to close.

She watched as the eyes she had always found intense, yet beautiful. Those quicksilver colours, mesmerising her. 

Those eyes started to open, looking and searching for a face in the room.

As they connected with hers, they softened. His eyes roamed her face, seeing the genuine worry and distress this had caused her. She realised he was affected too. 

“Molly” he said and paused, swallowing. A slight catch in the normally strong baritone voice.

“Molly” he started again. “Did it work? Was it all worth it?” He looked at her for the genuineness of her answer. His eyes deducing all he saw.

“Yes, Sherlock it worked” 

 

————

 

They arrived at the safe house about an hour later. A couple of bags were carried in by the driver for them.

Anthea, was waiting for them near the entryway to the building. It was a safe mansion not safe house, thought Molly ironically as she looked around. 

Dark wood interior, large grand staircase, numerous rooms off long corridors. All this after a winding gravel drive had brought them to the entryway. A large estate surrounded by trees, keeping prying eyes out.

Mycroft doesn’t do things by half, she thought. Keeps Sherlock happy I suppose. 

She couldn’t see him in a 2 up 2 down on a housing estate. Even in death, he liked the good things in life. So much for all his this is transport, in the high end suit and coat, she mused to herself.

Both of them followed Anthea up the stairs to a large bedroom, with a huge bay window, there was a four poster bed and open fireplace, with 2 wingback chairs sat either side of the hearth, just like home. Well, his home, 221B Baker Street, Molly noted.

Looking around it felt overwhelming and the feeling of capsizing in the ocean seemed to wash over her again. 

But, she had to focus for him. They still had work to do. 

He had hurt and bruised his body and the affects of the sedative were still in him system. 

The items they needed were already in the room.

The new clothes for going undercover and out of the country. Passports, money, obviously in different currencies. Luggage and toiletries to start with.

Anthea, turned and left them alone. She hadn’t said anything, just left them to it. 

But, Molly knew Sherlock liked to be in control. So she was guided by him.

“Time is of the essence, there is a flight taking me out of the country at 2am”. Raising his elegant but slightly scuffed hand, he said “No, don’t ask where to, Molly. It’s not important. Wherever, I go first I won’t be there long as I need to ensure no one is following me, to begin with. Then it’s down to work, completing the game”. Pacing towards the luggage and fetching the first aid supplies for cleaning him up. 

He turned towards me and inclined his head with a titled nod to the bathroom, he continued. 

“Making sure Moriarty loses and I win, well we all win, I suppose”. 

I followed where he went, as I always will. As I stepped through the door, Sherlock was already removing his shirt. With a slight gasp and a nervous fidget, I went to turn around. “Oh, uuh....um should I ....” but his slightly calloused fingers entwined my wrist. I couldn’t help biting my lower lip as my eyes widened, especially as I tried not to stare at his trim but firm abdomen and realised he was slightly more built than I thought. 

There’s more strength and power in those biceps and pectorals than I appreciated before.

This was going to fire my dreams and fantasies, more than ever. 

As he looked at me with those slightly narrowed eyes and a slight smirk on that face that haunts my dreams he new what I was thinking. “Molly, you look at bodies every day”with a slight pause he chastised me “No need for modesty now, mhmm”.

“Yes, sorry of course”. I replied. I was not going to be a bumbling ninny now. I had the chance to touch the man of my dreams even if it was just for the next hour or so and for medical purposes. 

But, it was still Sherlock Holmes. 

As he sat on the edge of the roll top bath, I removed my lab coat and cardigan. The room was lovely and warm and I was getting all hot and bothered, just in his proximity.

Cleaning the fake blood off first, from the areas I needed to had antiseptic ointment too. I let my hand glide and rest on his pale skin, touching his ribs, shoulder and bruised stomach from the fall. 

I could feel Sherlock react, either due to a sting from the antiseptic or me, I wasn’t sure. Sometimes I felt him shiver and saw the goosebumps on his skin come to life. 

However, I soon completed my task and he needed a shower, to wash the rest of the fake blood of his hair and body. 

I could feel the blush rising up my face from my neck and chest, as I realised there would soon be a naked Sherlock in this bathroom. With only a door separating me from him.

Quickly collecting my things from the dresser I had placed them on, I turned to leave knowing my work was done. Knowing this may even be the last time I see him. Sherlock again reached out for my wrist. 

Would he come back, would he survive long, would I ever see this beautiful man again? All these thoughts turning in my mind, I had mere moments left. I looked at his hand wrapped around my right wrist, his so large enveloped mine, was he feel8ng my pulse, could he feel it racing due to him, the closeness of him. 

As he looked down at me, his eyes boring into my soul. Working out exactly how I was feeling, he said “You made all this possible. Please remember Molly, whatever happens I will always be grateful to you for all you do for me and honoured to have worked with you”.

He reached into his trousers pocket and pulled out his keys. He said “I don’t know how long I will be gone and cant risk taking anything personal. So I need you to do one more thing for me. Keep this safe until my return”. Placing the skull key ring, with the key to my flat attached, into my hand. 

“And when I return” he determined “I will want them back, I will always have need of them, just as I don’t delete important memories”. 

Taking in Sherlock’s words, letting them wash over me. I looked up at him, watching him softly smile down at me. The impulse was to strong and knowing this may be my last chance.

Stretching up and placing my hands on his shoulders for leverage, I softly kissed his cheek. Feeling the stubble there and the warmth of this skin under my hands and lips. I know my eyes closed, but it was such a blissful moment, I wanted to savour it in my minds eye. 

Retreating back I looked up with trepidation and whilst I could see the stillness of shock on him there was no unpleasantness on his face. Knowing I was now blushing to the roots of my hair, I decided to make a hasty exit. 

Turning to leave, I looked back and smiled to myself as Sherlock had not loved one iota. 

However, knowing time was slipping away and he needed to finish getting ready.

I called to him form the doorway “Um Sherlock....” as he roused himself out of his musing, he looked at me and I couldn’t help but say “ The game is still on!”.

**Author's Note:**

> Well that’s another little ditty, trying to flesh out some off screen Sherlolly interaction.
> 
> I am aiming to do a story every day, trying to do the canon ones and interweaving a continuous theme too in my one shots. Hopefully it’s working. 
> 
> Just to say if you read this, thanks very much. Hope you enjoy it.


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